


Run boy run

by nishiki



Series: Thistle and Weeds [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Gen, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Prostitution, Mentions of Underage Prostitution, Mentions of Underage Sex, Protective Ben Hargreeves, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Psychological Torture, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Running Away, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Rivalry, Sobriety, drugs as a coping mechanism, the osso buco guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-07 14:51:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17962643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: Four times Klaus Hargreeves runs away and one time he stays.





	1. The oil painting

**April 2002**

 

Five was staring down on them from his spot at the wall over the marble fireplace, his face always illuminated by the golden sheen of the delicate lamp that was mounted over his portrait. Vanya let out a small sob as the painting was revealed by its creator. The moment the red velvet sheet fell to the ground and barely missed landing in the crackling fire underneath the painting was like lightning striking the academy.

Klaus put an arm around Vanya’s trembling shoulders out of sheer instinct and as she leaned into him for comfort, Klaus felt sick to the stomach. He couldn't tear his eyes away from his brother’s face on this god-awful portrait. His dark eyes staring back at him as if they were alive. They would follow him across the room without a doubt. Judging him, belittling him. He had always been a little blasé about things, always thought that he was infinitely better than the rest of his siblings. His face was that of a noble boy born into a noble family - intelligent, smug, one eyebrow always raised curiously, his eyes always inquisitive as if he possessed a wisdom beyond his age. His portrait fitted perfectly into a house as old as this. It looked, in its polished gold frame, as if it had been part of this house for centuries. As if Five had not just disappeared six months ago and never returned.

His other siblings hardly reacted to the revealed portrait of their lost brother. He knew that Ben had a hard time looking at it but he didn't say anything. Ben never said anything that could be considered critique while father was around. Luther stood tall and proud as always, his face grim but otherwise emotionless. Allison, standing at Luther’s side, looked as if she wanted to be anywhere else but here. And Diego … He was surprised that Diego had not already thrown one or two knives at their brother’s canvas face out of anger. He felt him vibrating with fury behind him. As for their father … His face was unreadable. There was no way of telling if he was in any way sad or at least affected in any way other than he had lost one of his test subjects.

This was a funeral and there was no doubt about that. They didn't have a body to bury. Five had just one day risen from the table during breakfast and stormed out of the house after an argument with their father and that was that. No body, no sign of life. Nothing.

Klaus knew that Vanya was still leaving the lights on every night, in case Five would come home in the night. He knew that their sister left marshmallow and peanut butter sandwiches for Five in the kitchen or Five’s room every night. He had seen Pogo collecting them more than enough times at this point. A part of him wanted to tell her that she could stop this, that Five wouldn't come back to them. He couldn't bring himself to crush Vanya like this, though. She was always so fragile. She always cried when one of them would step on a bug.

So, Klaus drowned out the bitter voices in his head telling him that someone needed to be frank with her, that someone needed to crush her hopes and dreams because otherwise their father or this world would crush Vanya under their boots like an ant.

Maybe he was a little too cynical for his young age.

He blamed the ghost of an elderly woman for thoughts like these. She was one of the first ghosts that had come to him in the mausoleum and never left him since. He didn't know her name or how she died but she was an ugly beast; Frail, with paper thin grey skin that stretched over her sharp bones.

The dress she had been buried in was from the late 19th century and moths had eaten away at it in her grave, her eyes were sunken deep into her skull, dull and lifeless and yet full of fury. Her grey hair like spiderwebs around her head and her fingers like claws, always reaching out to him to grab him. She was the worst of the ghosts he had seen in the mausoleum and ever since she was whispering to him, urging him to lash out, urging him to resist his father and his siblings, urging him to hurt those around him as they hurt him.

Sometimes it wasn't easy to shake her off. Sometimes it wasn't easy to not grab one of Diego’s knives and slice open Allison’s throat when she would poke fun at him again. Sometimes it wasn't easy to not pour rat poison in Luther’s milk when he would call him useless again. He loved his siblings dearly, despite their snide remarks, despite their cruelty.

Five days went by in a blur after Five’s portrait had first been revealed to the family and every night, Klaus found himself standing in the living room staring up at him. He didn't know why. He hated this portrait with a passion. Every time he looked at his lost brother, he felt himself shuddering, his stomach turning and recoiling. He felt sick. And he tried to imagine what Five would say to him. Maybe Five had always been the cruelest of the siblings. His powers had been superior to those of his other siblings and he had made that clear on every occasion.

»Is he really dead?« Vanya’s voice interrupted his thoughts this night as he once again reclaimed his position in front of the portrait to stare at it as if this would change anything about Five being gone. It was a Thursday and outside the academy, a storm was brewing. Maybe, he thought, he should just leave and walk into that storm. Perhaps it would whisk him away like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. Maybe it would whisk him away like it had Five. Then his face would soon decorate one of these walls staring back down on his siblings from an oil painting. He didn't want an oil painting. Then again, he didn't even know if his father would waste his money for a painting of his wayward son.

He didn't need to turn around and look at her to know that she was wearing that same worried and sad expression on her face that she always exhibited since they had turned seven or eight years old. Sometimes, this old lady in his periphery asked if she really felt the way she portrayed or if it was all just an elaborate act because Vanya didn't even know human emotions.

If this was true, well … could he blame her? They were all emotionally crippled. Diego threw his knives at absolutely anything that moved instead of talking, Luther turned to throwing punches before solving a problem with words, Allison just needed a few words to get her way in an argument, Ben usually stayed out of any kind of emotional confrontation and Klaus … Well, he laughed. That was his coping mechanism. Making jokes. That was why his siblings thought he was useless and why they thought he never took anything seriously. They didn't know what was going on inside his head and they didn't want to know.

»How would I know?« He smirked playfully as he turned to face Vanya at last only to have her draw her eyebrows together. Oh, he knew that look. It was the same look father would look down on him with.

»It's your _thing_ , isn't it?« Vanya replied critically before stepping closer. His _thing_ , yes, that was a nice way of putting it. »You talk with the dead. Surely, if Five is dead then he would have tried to make contact, right?«

»Five was a stubborn bastard, Vanya. Just like dad.« He sighed. »If dad would ever die - and I am of the opinion that he might be an immortal vampire - I bet my allowance for the next five years on it that he would refuse to make contact with me in any way just to annoy me and prove a point.«

She didn't seem amused by this. Well, he tried. As her eyes shifted away from him and returned to Five’s portrait, Klaus sighed once more, deeper this time. »Listen, Vanya, if he is dead … He hasn’t shown himself to me yet. That's all I can tell you. I don't know if he’s dead and that sucks and I hate it just as much as you do.«

»Do you?« Vanya replied suddenly a lot sharper than he was used to from that docile, timid little girl. That sharpness lining her voice she too had from father. Maybe of all of them, she was the most similar to the old man. »Since when do you care, Klaus? I mean about anything. You are always only poking fun at things. Even when Five didn't return home that day, you made jokes about it! Our brother is probably dead and you made jokes about it! So don't act as if you would care about any of us, Klaus!«

He wanted to hit her. And this time that was not the old lady in the corner whispering to him to hurt his siblings. This time that was what he wanted. He wanted to hit her and make her regret her cruel words. Instead, he huffed a mirthless little laugh and took a step backward before he could actually act on his emotions.

»You know what, Vanya? You’re right. I don't care.«

He left the living room before his sister could stop him - not that she would have. No one ever cared where he was going. Except for Ben, maybe. But ever since Five had disappeared, Ben had become more and more closed off - even to Klaus. Ben and he had always been close but since Five vanished … Ben was different.

Klaus had always thought that he would be the first of the Hargreeves siblings to bite the dust. Five had certainly not been on that list for him. He wondered if Ben might be thinking the same thing. He was terrified of his powers, maybe even more so than Klaus was of his own powers. Heck, he would be absolutely terrified out of his mind too if some kind of Lovecraftian monstrosity would be living inside his body. The dead were horrifying enough already.

After leaving the living room, he stopped shortly in the reception hall. It was late and the others were probably already all down in their rooms. He couldn't bring himself to go down there, though. He needed fresh air. He needed to leave and never come back like Five. Father would probably not even notice his disappearance and if he did … maybe Klaus would get a small memorial stone or something like that.

He left the house without thinking about it as he wondered what his father would write on the memorial stone. _Number four_ \- _a failure_. Yes, that sounded just like him and just like something his old man would do.

When he left the house and stepped through the iron gate that should keep the Hargreeves kids from the rest of the world, the wind had picked up and cut into his skin. It wasn't cold but clearly uncomfortable. The first of many autumn storms to come. Soon rain would be pouring down from the skies and thunder would rumble on the horizon. He could feel the sizzling in the air, could feel it in his bones. The old lady followed him relentlessly and Klaus found himself walking faster. He told himself that he was only quickening his pace because he didn't want anyone to follow him and perhaps stop him. It wasn't as if he was planning on running away. It was just … he needed to escape this house. He couldn't stand being there even a second longer.

The house was huge and yet he felt constricted by it, felt like the walls were constantly closing in on him. He had this itch right underneath the first layer of his skin, ants that were crawling beneath it. Maybe it was this feeling that led him to start running in the end. Maybe he just wanted to escape from the old lady that was hovering close behind him, never letting go of him, always reaching out to touch him, to keep him where he was. He needed space. He needed the fresh air of a stormy night. He needed the rain to pour down on him to remember that he was still alive and not yet one of those ghosts that were haunting him, screaming at him, terrorizing him.

Out here in the open, everything seemed clearer. Everything seemed easier for at least a moment. Their house, the academy, was stuffed with ghosts from the basement to the attic. He couldn't breathe in that house. And the weed, the only thing that made it a little more bearable in the beginning, was starting to lose its effect. The weed no longer kept the ghosts at bay and neither did the alcohol.

He had started smoking when he was twelve and only a year after that he had _broadened his horizon_ , as Ben liked to call it. He had seen a guy on the street smoking a blunt on the rare occasions that they had been allowed to leave the house. Not long after that, he had figured out what the funny smelling stuff was and how it made him calmer and helped to keep the ghosts at bay. In the beginning, it had been better than the alcohol he would sometimes steal from the oakwood bar downstairs. It wasn't as if the old man would lock his booze away so he didn't feel guilty about getting a drink every now and again.

The night was black when Klaus finally stopped. He was soaked from head to toe by the time he reached the park. No one was around. Not even the usual junkies or bums. The night was too unfriendly, too stormy and rough for anyone to be out here. As Klaus sank down onto one of the park benches, however, he felt at home. He didn't care for the cold creeping into his bones. For once, the old lady was gone. He had been able to shake her off but she would be waiting for him at home. He knew that she was.

A part of him wanted to curl up on this bench and just go to sleep in the rain and amidst the thunderstorm roaring over the town. He shouldn't be out here. This too was something he knew. Still, just because he knew that something wasn't good for him didn't mean he had to stop doing it, right? He had never been like his siblings, never been good in following orders like Luther or Allison, never desperate for praise like Diego, never so self-assured like Five, never so calm and collected like Ben, never so compassionate and normal like Vanya. He had always been a loose cannon and always been aware that his brothers and sisters only waited for him to go off at the wrong moment.

Even when he was younger, he had always thought that he would be the first one to die and now Five had cheated him out of that opportunity. This fucking, selfish bastard. Five had always been the one to steal the limelight. Of course, he wouldn't even allow Klaus to die before him and get a sentimental oil painting like he had.

He lay down on his back on that bench and allowed the rain to drum down on him. He felt every drop that hit his face and the backs of his hands. He felt the cold air seeping into his flesh as the rain was washing him clean of his past mistakes. He felt the wind tearing at his clothes and his wet hair. Father forced him to keep it short. It would start to curl if he would allow it to grow just a few inches longer and his father didn't want that for his son. Only once in his life, he wanted to have something that was uniquely _Klaus_. He didn't want to wear the same clothes his siblings wore. He didn't want to have his hair the exact same way his brothers wore it. He didn't want that tattoo on his arm, that branding that would tell everyone that he was the property of the Umbrella Academy. Not a child, not a human being, not a person. He was a weapon like his siblings were. He didn't want to be a weapon. He just wanted the voices to stop and he wanted Five to show his ugly mug again - dead or alive, he didn't care. He just wanted to know if his brother was alive.

He was sick of his father staring at him in disappointment because it had been Five who vanished and not him. He was sick of his father staring at him in anger because his powers were useless and couldn't even help him to get into contact with the son he truly cared about. Hours upon hours upon hours his father had forced him to focus on Five to find him in the afterlife and instead of Five, he had been tormented by thousands of angry spirits. He couldn't find Five no matter how hard he tried.

He couldn't even do the one thing that was uniquely his.

»Klaus!« A voice ripped through the storm like sunlight pouring through the thick clouds that were hiding the moon behind an unbreakable wall. »Klaus, thank God, there you are!«

Diego. Somehow he wasn't even surprised that it was Diego who found him out here in the cold.

»Release the Kraken!« Klaus mock-yelled into the storm but he didn't make any move to actually sit up again until Diego’s face entered his field of vision and hovered over him. His brows were knotted together painfully, his forehead a desert of deep lines, his mouth pinched in a way that told him that his brother wanted to shout at him. He wanted to draw him like this. Klaus had always liked to draw and his sketchbook was filled with sketches of his siblings.

»What the fuck are you doing out here?«

»Wow, easy. Do you kiss Mom with that mouth?« He huffed as he finally sat up on the bench. Diego, however, did not waste any time to grab him by the neck like a newborn kitten and to force him to his feet. His grip on Klaus never faltered. Diego was taller than he was - at least for now - and he had more strength than Klaus. Of course, it would be easy for him to drag his _little_ brother around like that.

»You are unbelievable Klaus you know that?«

»Yes, I am pretty fantastic.«

»After everything that happened … After Five … You just run out on us like this, are you fucking nuts? Dad is furious!«

»And since when does Dad care about the family-disappointment?«

The look Diego gave him spoke clearly of the fact that he knew that it was true and that every denial of it would be a blatant lie. »We are all disappointments in father's eyes.«

»Not you!« Klaus laughed. »Not Luther, not Allison and especially not his beloved Number Five or Ben! No, you guys are awesome. It's me who is his biggest regret. I mean what good am I for him when I can't even talk to Five for him? When I can't even tell him if his most precious son is alive or dead?«

»He will get over it.« Diego didn't deny his claims, he didn't tell him that their father loved him and that he was valued by him.

Diego didn't lie. Diego had never been a good liar anyway. He started to stutter when he tried, even worse than when he would just be a little nervous. For some reason, Klaus appreciated it that his brother wouldn't even try to lie at him in this case. He appreciated Diego’s honesty no matter how much the truth might hurt him. At least Diego respected him enough to tell him the truth. He said it how it was. He wouldn't act as if the situation would be any less awful than it was just to keep the peace.

»Dad is an asshole, Klaus. But he will get over it.«

»Well, he can get over it while I am somewhere else - somewhere far away preferably.«

»And what about us?«

»What about who?«

» _Us_. Your siblings. What will become of us if you’re no longer home?«

He let out a squawking little laugh at this, surprised by the question. »I can't follow.«

»Did you ever pause to think about how we might feel if you leave us like this? We already lost a brother, Klaus!«

And now Diego was yelling at last. He stopped in the middle of the park and held onto Klaus’ shoulders as for dear life. And his face … His face- He looked in so much pain. His _big brother_. One of the few people Klaus had always been looking up to. He seemed so hurt by Klaus’ careless words. Klaus had never thought that his words would have any effect on Number Two at all.

»We lost Five and we couldn't do anything about it. And now you just run away like this and … What if you wouldn't have come back home? What if I wouldn't have found you? What if some sick fuck would have grabbed you and took you and killed you? You can't do something like this!«

The punch that came should have been expected and yet it took him so much by surprise that he actually stumbled backward and landed flat on his ass on the gravel stone path of the nightly park. For a moment, Diego just stared at him, panting, as Klaus wiped the blood from his nose where Diego had hit him, all the while rain was pouring down relentlessly onto the brothers. It felt like an eternity before Klaus realized what had happened or before guilt flickered over Diego's face and even longer before Diego slowly extended his hand to him to help him up. As he did, Klaus hesitated for a second.

Out here his mind seemed so much clearer. He didn't want to go home. But then there was Diego and his dark eyes were so pleading and Klaus couldn't stand to see any of his siblings hurt or sad in any way. He grabbed Diego's hand and allowed him to pull him to his feet.

»I swear to you, Diego, if you broke my nose, you are doing all my chores for at least five years. After all, my pretty face is all I got.«

They walked in silence for a while, side by side, through the rain and the storm. None of them dared to say another word as they left the park and floundered down the streets. It seemed the academy was on the other side of the world as they walked like this. The silence was comfortable and Diego’s presence at his side, with all his knives and his angry looks, kept the ghosts at bay.

»Why did you run away, Klaus?« Diego finally disrupted the silence as he looked at him from the side. He had grown a lot last month and so Klaus actually had to look up to meet Diego’s eyes. Of the brothers, Klaus had always been the smallest. He had always been frail in a way. As if death was already eating away at him. As if he himself was nothing more than a ghost. He was not a fighter like the rest of his brothers.

»Father had this oil painting made of Five and I was afraid I would be next. I don't want an oil painting.«

Diego stared at him in confusion at first but, after a short while of them just walking and his words having time to sink into his brain, Diego put his left arm around his shoulders to draw him in close. His body was warm, even in this storm.

»Don't worry.« Diego muttered. »I will plant a tree for you instead.«

 

**-End of Chapter 1-**


	2. Pills

**August 2005**

 

He was a mess. That was by no means new. His family knew he was a mess, he himself knew he was a mess. The world knew he was a mess. It was pretty obvious just by looking at him. Klaus hadn't slept in a week. The ghosts were keeping him awake, torturing him with their endless demands to help them, help them, help them.

»What was that, Number Four?« His father shouted at him the moment they walked through the front door and didn't need to keep up appearances any longer for the rest of the world. He would have jumped out of his skin if he hadn't expected this reaction. The rest of his siblings quickly dispersed from the reception hall so that they wouldn't get hurt in the crossfire while Vanya was quickly leading Ben to the infirmary. The cut on his left arm had left a gushing wound that just wouldn't stop bleeding. »Your team was relying on you and you did what? Where have you been, Number Four?«

He was right, of course. His father was always right as much as he hated to admit that. He had left his position as the lookout and went to get something to eat instead. He had been starving out there! And he was tired. So, so fucking tired. Still, because he hadn't been there to look out for the bad guys, Ben had gotten hurt and could have died if Diego hadn't reacted as quickly as he had. They hadn't planned on spilling so much blood tonight.

»I … I was…«

»A little louder, young man!«

»I was hungry.«

His father had never hit any of them. He was too elegant, too much of a gentleman, to hit his children. At this moment, though, Klaus could clearly see the urge behind his father's eyes to slap him across the room.

»Your brother almost got killed because you were _hungry_ , Number Four.« He stayed as calm as possible as he directed those words at Klaus. »And his death would have been on your hands, make no mistake about that. Your powers might be useless during a combat situation but was it really so much to ask of you to just stay on the lookout and warn your siblings in time?«

»No.« He replied in nothing but a whisper.

»Pardon?«

»No, Sir.«

»I think to teach you a lesson and show you what true hunger means, the appropriate punishment for your behavior is no food from now on until the rest of the week, Number Four. Maybe that will teach you what real hunger is and that you are lucky to live in this house were you have plenty of food at all times! Hunger … Unbelievable! You act as if I would let you starve in this house! Don't you have a nice breakfast every morning?«

»I do, Sir.« He felt shame creeping up his neck, burning hot and angry. It was right, after all. He had food and a nice home. He wasn’t missing anything while out there in the real world, people were starving every day.

»Don't you have a good lunch and a proper dinner every day?«

»I do, Sir.«

»And just look at you! You are skin and bones! You look like you haven't slept in weeks because you stay up every night to read your stupid comics are draw those horrible grotesque pictures! It's time that your mother will take those from you.«

»No, Dad, please!«

»From his moment onwards, young man, consider your privileges revoked  until you finally realize the importance of your gift and of this team! And now go to bed. I do not wish to see you again until morning comes! And tomorrow morning you will sit with us and watch your siblings eat and you will train even harder than they do, did I make myself clear?«

»Yes, Sir.«  

Klaus stayed behind in the hall and stared up to the chandelier as his father walked away with the sharp clicking of the metal tip of his cane echoing on the marble floor. He wondered what would happen if the thing would fall down on him and crush him under its weight. He listened to the sounds of Reginald's footsteps retreating to his office upstairs and shortly after he had left Klaus to his own devices, he heard the door to his office slide shut.

He let out a small groan before he got his limbs to cooperate again and actually walk down to their bedrooms. Most of the doors were closed, except for Ben’s. His brother was still getting patched up, after all. It was his fault and he didn't need dad to know that. Klaus wanted to go upstairs to the infirmary and watch over his brother but he knew that the shame would be unbearable. Ben would say that it hadn't been his fault because Ben was just too good for this world. And yet, Klaus would know that his brother was lying.

Not too long after that, he lay in his bed and listened to the sounds of the house over the whispers of the ghosts in his room. It was too quiet and the voices too loud. The only sounds other than the spirits were those of the creaking woodwork all around him as the house shifted and turned over in it' sleep. The noise of the city was too far away. He couldn't hear any cars or buses drive by the Academy.

It was midnight when he started rummaging through his drawers searching for the last bit of weed he still had only to come up empty. »Fuck.« The whisper was like thunder in his room. »Fuck!« There was nothing left. How was he going to find any semblance of sleep without being able to smoke a blunt!

He couldn't stay another night in this room trying to sleep without anything in his system. But Alcohol stopped working a long time ago and weed had only dulled the ghosts lately. He needed something stronger than this. Anything at all. Anything to take the edge off.

His eyes fell upon his window and before he could actually form the thought in his head, he had gotten dressed again and climbed out of his window to climb down the few feet on the trellis. What foolish man his father was to have something like this installed right underneath his window!

It wasn't the first time that he would escape the academy like this and it wouldn't be the last time either. It was summer and the night humid and warm as he was walking the streets of the city. The night had not stopped the activity on the streets, only dulled it down a little and shifted its focus. No longer were there people running across the streets with briefcases in fine suits or ladies in pretty dresses with their handbags clutched tightly to their sides. Instead, young people inhabited the streets on their way to or from parties, lingering in front of nightclubs and bars. The people wore thin clothes and frilly dresses but Klaus was always cold. That was why he had stolen that red flannel shirt from Luther the other day. 

Klaus felt oddly at home during the witches hour out in town. Maybe he had always been one of the people drawn to the deepest darkest shadows of the night - towards the unsavory people, towards those who were different and wild and rebellious and oh so beautiful.

He was fifteen and entirely too young to even consider going into a nightclub and yet he was drawn in like a moth to a flame as he saw the bright pink neon sign and saw the group of girls in front of it. He had never had a thing for girls and he had never questioned this fact about himself either. This was just how it was and he was okay with it - even though his father would see it as only one more affront against his person. Heck, as if Klaus had chosen this for himself!  But, by God, those girls in their nice frilly summer dresses were beautiful like butterflies dancing around a rosebush. Their laughter was like the call of the sirens as he followed them inside, into the loud thumping music.

He had never been to a nightclub before and though scared at first by being surrounded by hundreds of people like this, he quickly found himself enticed by the sounds and the bright lights. Just other human beings without any kind of strange superpowers dancing their pains away until the morning came. He wasn't here to dance, though. Nightclubs like these, he knew from his father’s horror stories, always held drug dealers and that was what he needed.

It didn't take long for him to find one either. He was not very subtle the way he stood next to the restrooms and leaned against the wall, dressed in tight leather pants and a colorful shirt that exposed his middle. He was certainly good looking and as he noticed Klaus walking over to the restroom, he smiled at him as if they were friends that had decided to meet at this club.

»Aren't you a little young to be here?« He yelled over the humming of the bass.

»I am old enough.« Klaus replied with a little laugh as he stepped closer.

»Need something to take the edge off?« The man pulled out a small plastic bag with three pills in it before Klaus could even ask him for weed. He wanted to say no. A part of him, the sober and sensible part of him, wanted to say no and ask for weed. He was fifteen. The fact that he drank alcohol and smoked weed was already bad enough. But pills? And not just any pills but ecstasy? He said yes and paid the man for the three pills before he could think about it.

After that, he walked into the men’s room and found one guy standing at the urinals while he heard another one throw up in one of the stalls. Klaus, however, was drawn to the mirrors as if he had never seen one before.

He looked like shit with those dark circles under his eyes and his greyish skin. He looked certainly more dead than alive and yet he only grinned at his reflection and drove a hand through his hair to mess it up before he popped the first of the pills and shoved the rest into the back pocket of his jeans. If tomorrow his punishment would begin, he decided, he would make the best out of this night at least. He could be like all the other people out there and drown in an ocean of bodies while he would dance the night away and don't care about his family or any superpowers or his father or anything at all. He could stay here and never go back home.

Not that anyone would care.

He dove right into the party as he left the bathroom. He didn't know if it was the drug in his system or just the novelty of all of this but everything suddenly seemed so much more intense and loud and exciting. He felt the incessant need to touch and be touched, the need for skin on skin contact while he danced. He was drowning in the mass of all those lost souls around him and for once the voices and the ghosts were quiet. For once, the old lady in his periphery was not standing in the corner judging him. He was free and alive and burning up with energy. He was a butterfly circling around a rosebush with hundreds and hundreds of other butterflies. At last, he was free.

That was until he found himself throwing up in an alleyway next to the nightclub.

Maybe he shouldn't have mixed this new drug he didn't know with so much alcohol but the lights had been so enticing and the cocktails so colorful and he didn't regret it one bit even as he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of the flannel shirt that he had stolen from Luther the other day. He often stole things from his siblings. Not to steal, not because he wouldn't get his own things if he would just ask for them but because he felt closer to his siblings this way. When he would wear one of Luther's shirts or even Diego's, he felt safer and more secure. When he would steal Alison's nail polish, he would feel like one day he could be more than just Number Four, perhaps even a real person.

It was odd just how connected he had felt to those strangers in this club as he had been dancing among them. No judgment, no snide comments about how useless he was or that he was wasting his time and his potential. Just so many other people trying to forget their pain and their troubles and their stress and he had loved, loved, loved them all.

He was exhausted as he staggered down the street only to pull himself into a doorway at some point and sat down on the narrow stone steps leading to the door of some apartment building. Hell, he didn't even know where he was but the sun was already rising and he felt like sleeping for a week. The ghosts were gone, finally leaving him alone and he was tired, the rush of the excitement slowly ebbing off and leaving him drowsy as he leaned his head against the wooden door and closed his eyes. He would never be home in time for breakfast anyway and even if he would, his father would know that he hadn't been home the entire night. He would get punished no matter if he stayed out or returned home so why hurry to get in further trouble with his father?

Hell, perhaps he would just never return.

He had enough money on his person to buy a whole lot more of these pills and spend every night in clubs like this, dancing the night away, finding compassion and kindness in all those strangers who didn't know that he was Klaus Hargreeves, that he was Number Four, a boy who could talk to the dead. He was just Klaus out here.

He was shaken awake by a hand resting on his shoulder and giving it a small push. »Go away, Luther…« He groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. He didn't want to face the world again. He didn't want to open his eyes to see his brother’s disapproving stare. He didn't want to go to the dining room to watch them all eat breakfast while he was being punished for not being a machine but a human being with human needs. The push came again.

»Dude! Come on, Klaus!«  He knew the voice. It wasn't Luther and his kinda-squeaky kinda-deep awkward broken puberty voice. No, it was the already deep but kinda not very deep voice of another one of his brothers. Certainly not Diego. Diego was cursing him because Klaus had been the first to go through the process of the breaking of his voice. Diego still sounded like Mickey Mouse most days when he did not try to sound deeper than he actually did.

»Benny?«

»Who else would go looking for your junkie ass  in the middle of the night?«

Klaus pried his eyes open slowly and was rewarded with the face of his brother hovering much too close for comfort right in front of him. Benny was already wearing his uniform. He was a good boy, after all. Not like him. But Klaus could see that his injured arm was wrapped in gauze from his elbow to his hand. Ah, there it was again. Shame.

»Fuck … Personal space, my Dude.« Benny took a step back with a small sigh and shook his head. »What time is it?«

»Five o’clock.« Ben replied dutifully and extended a hand to Klaus. He didn't hesitate to take it and stand up even though his entire body was protesting - and very painfully too as his stomach cramped up and then keeled over. Benny was quick enough to take a step to the side before Klaus could actually puke all over the front of his shirt. Instead, he puked all over the staircase. A part of him felt sorry for the people living in this house. He wouldn't like it to step into puke when walking out the door in the morning. Oh hell, he really was a useless son of a bitch, wasn't he? Already ruining someone's day!

»Jesus, Klaus!« Ben exclaimed as he quickly caught Klaus by the shoulders before his useless brother could actually fall down the stairs. He was swaying quite badly on his long legs and was thankful for Ben’s support. »Did you drink?«

He let out a small huff. His siblings all knew that he was smoking weed and that he was drinking whenever he would know that father wouldn't notice it. Yet, no one ever said anything. They all just looked at him disapprovingly and that was it. Because if they would say something they would need to listen to him explain and none of them wanted to bother with that.

»Yeah…« Klaus replied drowsily as he clung to Ben. His brother slowly helped him down the stairs and Klaus leaned heavily on the shorter boy. Surely, Ben would grow taller than he was. Klaus had had his growth spurt last year and had been taller than Luther for a short while too. Oh, what a sweet time that had been. The relentless teasing had almost provoked Luther to kill him. Now Luther was taller again and was starting to gain more muscles than the rest of them.

Klaus had always been thin and lanky and he hadn't much hope that this would ever change. He was a fast runner, though, faster than most of his siblings. Well, if it came to whether to fight or flight he would know which one to chose. »Let’s just say I drank too much…«

»Klaus…« Oh, this disappointing face! The drop in his voice! The pinched lips! How much had he missed to see this!

»I don't … Not now, okay … I’m exhausted.« He mumbled. »And I feel sick. Have a little mercy with your poor sick brother.«

At least he wasn't hungry at the moment. He was too nauseous to even think about food. Benny rolled his eyes and started walking with him. »Come on, we get you home and cleaned up. You look like shit warmed up three times over.«

»Oh, such colorful language! I like it.« He nudged his head against Ben’s but Ben only groaned in response.

»Is everything always only one big joke to you, Klaus? Dad will be furious with you! He will whoop your skinny ass!«

»You are spending too much time with Diego.«

»I’m serious!« Ben huffed. He would have probably shoved him off of him if this wouldn't entail Klaus falling to his butt and not being able to get up by himself again like a turtle lying on its shell. Ben was such a good kid. »Really, Klaus! Would you cut the bullshit already? This is serious! You are running off in the middle of the night, taking drugs and drinking alcohol! God knows what could have happened to you! Do you think I find it funny to look for you in the middle of the night to find you passed out somewhere?«

»I wasn't _passed out_ , I was asleep.« He moaned as he finally pulled away from Ben to take a few staggering steps away from his brother. »And I didn't ask you to come looking for me! Stop acting as if you would care about me, Ben! Or as if anyone of you would care because you don't! Has it ever occurred to you that I didn't want to be found? That I didn't want to come home? I am perfectly fine on my own out here in freedom! No more training, no more missions, no more punishments for just being a human being! It's an enigma to me how Vanya hasn't killed dad with an ax already! I’m tired of all this shit, Benny! I just want to be myself so would you please go home and just tell dad that I’m not coming home?«

Ben stared at him for a while, his face almost unreadable before understanding crossed his features. There was not much time for Klaus or Ben to say another thing though before his stomach revolted once more and forced him into another alley between a shop and a house to empty out his stomach some more.

How they had ultimately made their way across town and back home, Klaus wouldn't be able to answer if questioned. They snuck in through the kitchen door and straight to the floor on which their bedrooms were located. Breakfast would be in less than an hour and there was no way that Benny would get him presentable in such short a time. Yet, Ben was maneuvering Klaus to one of the bathrooms and locked the door behind them before he placed Klaus on the closed lid of the toilet and started to run a bath.

»A bath won't change anything about dad being pissed and knowing that I wasn't home all night.« Klaus groaned as he rested his head on the tiled wall next to the toilet. He just wanted to sleep now. And he still felt sick. Never had he been this hungover before in his life. He wished he could just continue drinking and partying and not caring about anything that was going on in this house. Ben, however, didn't say anything as he made sure the temperature of the water was okay before he returned to Klaus and crouched down in front of him. His brother made quick work of pulling off his shoes and socks, only raising back to his full height to pull the flannel shirt and the thin t-shirt underneath over his head. Both items he threw into the laundry basket right away. Oh, he would miss Luther's shirt. He would need to steal it back soon.

»Can you get your pants off yourself or do I have to do this too?« Ben huffed and Klaus rolled his eyes as he carefully maneuvered his body into a position that allowed him to open his pants and get them over his narrow hips and his ass at least, all the while Ben was holding onto his shoulders to keep him upright.

»Good job.« His brother humored him before he bent down and pulled his pants off completely, pulling his boxer shorts right off with his pants. Klaus had never been ashamed of being naked in front of his siblings or really anyone. Why would he? He was just a machine after all, right? Just one of father's failed experiments. And Ben didn't care either as he helped him up and over to the bathtub until he could help him lower his body into the hot water.

»Why are you even doing this for me?« Klaus muttered as he rested his head against the edge of the bathtub and stared at the ceiling. He remembered happier times in this tub. When they had been very little, he would sometimes take a bath with Diego or Ben under Mom’s watchful eyes.

He remembered playing with his brothers in the bubble bath, using the foam to create fake beards or playing with the very few toys that they had. Back then they had first realized that Diego had the incredibly useless power of holding his breath indefinitely. Their nanny had been sure he had drowned but he had just fallen asleep and Klaus had screamed bloody murder.

Ben stared at him for a moment as if _he_ was the one seeing a ghost this time around. Already he could see the old lady again flickering in and out of focus in the corner of his left eye.

»I love you, Klaus.« Ben sighed as if he couldn't even believe that he had to actually give an answer to that question. »Even when you can’t love yourself. And I will always be there for you - that's what brothers do.«

 

**-End of Chapter 2-**


	3. Osso Buco

**October 2005**

 

As a child, he had feared the night and the darkness which it brought. The night had been the time when the ghosts would come to him and torment him the most. Now as a teenager, the night was the time he could escape the ghosts. He didn't care how much poison he had to consume as long as it kept the spirits at bay. And, oh, wasn't the night beautiful when it wasn't filled with ghosts?  Klaus loved the lights of the nightclubs, he loved the loud blaring music that would vibrate in his skeleton. But there was something else, perhaps even better than this he came to love.

As he turned over in the bed that had become so familiar to him in the past three weeks he groaned a satisfied grunt. The sheets were white silk and soft on his naked body as he rolled onto his stomach and enjoyed how pliant the mattress was beneath him. Sir Reginald never shied any expenses but he was of the opinion that nothing would better serve to steal his little soldiers than hard mattresses, scratchy cotton sheets, and uncomfortably squeaking bed frames.

This was heaven.

He was alone - for now. The rain was drumming softly against the windows of the apartment around him. Halloween was right around the corner now. He used to love Halloween as a child. He still did but his love had shifted into a new direction. As a child, it had all been about the candy he wouldn't get or the costumes he wouldn't be allowed to wear outside the house. It had been the mystery of this night when the veil between the living and the dead would wear the thinnest that had soon turned into real horror for Klaus the stronger his powers became.

It had been Halloween night when his father had locked him into the mausoleum at the tender age of thirteen. After that, his love for the holiday had quickly faded away. His father, of course, had just seen an opportunity in this night and he had been right in his theory. The ghosts had been stronger in this mausoleum in this night, more aggressive, relentlessly tormenting Klaus.

Flashes of that night hit him with full force and made him sit up in bed quickly. It was his first instinct to run but where to? No. He was safe here. _Safe_. Instead of running he grabbed his cigarettes from the nightstand and put one between his lips to light it with shaking fingers. Mark hated it when he would smoke indoors but he didn't care. Mark wasn't here yet. He wouldn't come home for another hour at least, a soft smile on his lips and a small complaint if he would still find him in bed.

He had spent the entire day in bed, lounging, napping, drawing. His new sketchbook was almost full. He yearned for something bigger. He missed his easel and the paint he had at home. Drawing and painting had helped him early on to deal with the demons in his head. His brothers and sisters hated his drawings and the paintings littering the walls of his room. They felt uneasy looking at them. Father, oddly enough, had always encouraged this habit. Perhaps because it had given him some sick sense of satisfaction to see what horrors his son was able to see. He would never be able to understand the old grouch and he didn't want to either.

What was there to understand anyway? He was a sadist. He was a monster. That was it.

Taking a long drag from his cigarette, he let out the smoke with a shaky little breath before his eyes fell on the mirror on the wall opposite of the bed. He looked a hot mess. His hair was standing in every direction, he looked drowsy and _crumpled_ \- as Vanya liked to call it.

 _You look like a t-shirt that someone left on their bedroom floor for too long_. That was what she used to say to him and he would laugh about this very fitting description because usually, that was how he felt.

With a sigh, Klaus got up from his spot on the bed and put out his cigarette in the small ceramic ashtray on his nightstand. He was still naked. He hadn't seen any reason why he should put on some clothes. The ghosts didn't care. He hadn't been able to see them for three blissful weeks ever since he had met Mark. Not that Mark had anything to do with it. He was just a random guy he had met in one of the nightclubs he liked to frequent. Just another random guy who bought him a drink and taken him home.

It were the drugs keeping the ghosts at bay and the freedom to take whatever and whenever he wanted it. Mark didn't judge him. He didn't like it when Klaus was high but, in the end, Klaus being high certainly had its perks in the bedroom so he wouldn't complain. Poor old Mark had no clue that Klaus had only recently turned sixteen. He had told him that he was twenty-one already. His height certainly underlined the lie perfectly. He was tall for a sixteen-year-old - probably wouldn't grow much taller now. Poor Benny was still shorter than he was and he hated it. Surely, Benny would soon tower over him.

He missed Ben. He missed Diego.

It wasn't like he would be held captive in this apartment either. He could come and go as he pleased. Mark allowed him to stay because the sex was good and because Klaus was easy to be around, as he had once said. He didn't care and Klaus was tired of sleeping on the streets or some random guy’s apartment for one night until he would get thrown out again.

As he walked into the bathroom he looked at himself in the mirror once more. His hair had grown out of the cut his father forced upon him and started to curl at the ends. He liked it. It made him look like _Klaus_ and not like Number Four. Last time he had been home was almost two months ago. This time, no one came to fetch him. This time, no one had found him randomly in the streets. They had probably not even been looking for him. Good. He didn't plan on going back. He never wanted to go back home.

Out here in the real world, he was free. Free, free, free. And he loved it.

The shower he took was hot and blissfully short. He preferred baths but Mark didn't have a tub so a shower had to suffice. When he got out of the shower, he already heard the door of the apartment open. Mark was early today. He almost felt bad that he was leeching off of him like he was. He was not working, after all, and didn't have any money left. The last of his allowance, he had spent a month ago for a hotdog.

Living on the streets was bad enough but living on the streets as a drug addict was even worse. Not that he was addicted … it was just easier with those pills. The ghosts were silent when he would take them and he loved the silence around him.

He quickly wrapped a towel around his hips before he stepped out of the bathroom to find Mark already in his small kitchenette, setting down a bag of groceries before his eyes fell upon Klaus. »Heya, Gorgeous.« He greeted Klaus with a smile spreading over his face as he unpacked the groceries.

»Osso Buco again?« Klaus replied with a smirk and Mark raised one of his slim eyebrows.

»You love my Osso Buco.«

»No.« Klaus huffed and slowly walked closer. »I am _crazy_ for your Osso Buco.«

Looking at Mark Thompkins now, he clearly could have it worse. He was a good looking young man in his early thirties. Dirty blonde hair, the bluest eyes he had ever seen, tall but not as tall as Luther, athletic in build. He had always had a thing for this type of guy. Stepping closer to help him unpack the groceries, Mark leaned over to steal a chaste kiss from his lips and Klaus was happy to oblige. It felt almost a little too familiar, almost a little too domestic the way they behaved. It wasn't that Klaus would be afraid of having an actual relationship but he would rather not let this thing between them escalate into a real relationship. After all, poor old Mark thought he was legal. It wasn't his fault that he didn't ask for his ID or birth certificate or something.

As he pulled away, however, something else caught his eye sitting next to the apartment door in a large canvas bag. »What's this?« He asked pointing at the item only to have Mark grin at him. He had these cute dimples when he grinned. A true heartthrob. Almost he reminded Klaus of Luther. Thankfully, Mark was not as stiff as his brother.

»Open it.« Mark smirked. »It's for you.«

»For me?« Now he truly was curious and hurried over to the door to pick up the bag. It was heavy as he carried it over to the living space of the main room of the apartment. Opening the bag, he was confused at first as he pulled out some pieces of some piece of furniture that had to be put together yet.

»You said you used to paint at home.« Mark smiled. »I saw this on my way home and thought … Well, I’ve noticed that your sketchbook is running out of pages, so…«

An easel. Mark had bought him an easel and he had bought him canvas and paint. The realization of this needed to sink in first but as it did, Klaus almost leaped at him from across the room. »I know it's a cheap one, but…«

»It's perfect.« Klaus smiled softly at the other man.

It was much later that same evening as he first used his new easel and one of the canvases that Mark had bought him. They had placed it close to the bay window overlooking the street. From this spot, Klaus was able to see the bookstore at the corner a bit further down. It looked inviting. Perhaps he would go there tomorrow and see if he would find something interesting. Then again, he didn't want to leech off of Mark more than he already was and he was slowly running on empty again with his stash … He should find a dealer who would be willing to trade. Or he needed to find some guy who was willing to pay for his services when Mark would be at work. It didn't seem wrong to Klaus to think that way. After all, they were not in a real relationship and the gifts that Mark bought him didn't change anything about that.

Klaus was content as the piece of charcoal he held between his fingers scratched over the surface of the canvas. He usually just painted without a sketch but he rarely painted a portrait. Mark sat perfectly still with a book in his hands on his large sofa. He seemed content and not even aware that Klaus was sketching him on this canvas. Sometimes he wondered what Mark thought about him and their situation.

He played it cool towards his younger lover but Klaus could tell that Mark was hoping for something more. Maybe he even thought that he would be able to change Klaus or to _save_ him. Three days ago, as they had been lying together, entangled with each other in Mark’s big bed, Mark had told him about his ex-boyfriend for the first time, how he had left him for another guy and how long it had taken him to get back into the game after this. They had been talking about marriage and adoption, Mark and his ex, before their sudden break up, leaving Mark heartbroken and alone.

»Any plans for Halloween yet?« Mark suddenly quipped and pulled him out of the ocean that was the world inside his head. He needed a moment to realize what he meant and that was only underlined by how slow he was blinking.

»Not really.« He then shrugged.

»Not a big fan of Halloween?« Mark teased with a sly smirk and Klaus thought, the way he sat there in a simple pair of blue jeans and a white shirt, the light of the dying sun shining onto him in just the right angle, with the smell of their dinner still lingering in the air, he could maybe fall in love with Mark.

He could fall in love with this apartment and this way of living. No more training, no more missions, no more _Number Four_ , no more ghosts, no more Reginald Hargreeves, no more Luther, Allison, and Vanya. No more … No more Diego and Ben. He could start a new life, become someone else. He knew how easy it was to get a fake ID and it couldn't be that much harder to get a fake birth certificate and change his name.

»I used to be when I was a child.« He sighed and tore his eyes away from Mark to direct his gaze outside. He had always loved lazy autumn days. Almost four weeks ago, he had turned sixteen and he hadn't been home for his birthday. They all had to share a cake at home. This year no one had cut him a piece. He wondered if they were worried about him; if they perhaps thought that he might have died.

»I can imagine that you went to terrorize your neighborhood every year while trick or treating.« Mark huffed from his spot on the sofa, his eyes warm and full of fondness as he looked at Klaus. »Surely, you were one of those cute little guys who charmed everyone out of a year’s worth of candy.«

»I wish!« He snorted with a small shake of his head. In the distance, he could see a father with his son walking down the street hand in hand. The boy was already wearing a costume, probably had just bought it and now refused to take it off. »I was never allowed to go trick or treating.« He then confessed as he returned his attention back to the portrait and kept sketching.

»Oh?«

»Yeah … My father … Well, dad was pretty strict, we didn't get along.« He wouldn't dare talk about the academy or his siblings. Mark didn't know yet who he was and he wanted it to stay like this. Everyone who knew who he was, started to make fun of him or ask him if he could really talk to the dead. »Every year my mom and I made a new costume and we always did everything by our self but dad never allowed me to go outside. I was allowed to wear my costumes inside, though.«

»Your dad sounds like a dick.«

He let out another laugh. »That puts it mildly.« Klaus stayed silent for a moment while he worked before he continued talking. »Dad is a tyrant. Everything has to be done his way. He always expects perfection and if you are not able or willing to deliver perfection, you are the biggest disappointment he ever needed to face in his life.«

»That sounds awful.«

»It was.« Almost he slapped himself. He didn't want to talk about his father - not with Mark. He didn't mean to pour out his poor broken little heart. Already Mark was of the unwavering opinion that Klaus was broken and that it would be upon him to actually fix him. Mark was a good guy but he was living in a fairy tale. He believed in a happy ever after. Klaus knew better than this. There was no such thing as a happy ending. »You can probably imagine that I am his biggest disappointment in life.«

»No, I can't.« Mark replied and as Klaus looked over at him, his face was completely serious before he rose from the sofa to walk over to him now, leaving his book behind on the sofa cushions.

 _Please don't,_ he wanted to say. _Please don't hug me. Please don't say those things._

He knew exactly what Mark would do and he didn't want it. He couldn't go on like this for much longer. It would be best if he would leave tomorrow while Mark would be at work and never return. He couldn't stop him though as Mark walked around the easel and closed his arms around him from behind.

»You are perfect the way you are, Klaus.« He whispered softly into his ear as he pressed a kiss to his temple. He smelled fantastic. »Never let anyone tell you something else. You are beautiful and smart. You are funny and witty and creative and gentle and you have a big heart, Klaus. And your dad is an idiot for not being able to see that.«

It was hard not to fall apart hearing something like this. His skin burned and he was itching for a new high. Mark didn't like it when he would take drugs while he was around, though, and Klaus couldn't have this kind of conversation right now. He just couldn't. So, he turned around in Mark’s embrace and kissed him instead. It was a hungry, sloppy little thing, this kiss, but it didn't fail to deliver the message. Already, he could feel Mark harden through his pants.

»Bedroom.« He demanded in a soft breath against his lips and Mark was quick to hoist him up by his ass so that Klaus was able to wrap his legs around his middle.

Klaus didn't sleep that night. He had left the bed and put on some clothes right after Mark had fallen asleep next to him, exhausted from his day at work and the sex. Klaus, however, had just swallowed the last of his pills and walked back to his new easel. He painted all through the night and when the next morning came and the first beams of sunlight threatened to burst through a thick wall of dark grey clouds, he was finished. It was not his best work for most of his paintings depicted the nightmarish creatures that filled his nights and days alike, but it was a good painting. It was colorful and soft like Mark.

As Klaus left the apartment while the sun was rising and Mark still sound asleep in his bed, Klaus left the painting with a note for the other man. Klaus knew that he would never be strong enough to tell Mark the truth about himself face to face but Mark deserved the truth. He didn't want to leave him heartbroken again. He deserved better than this. He deserved better than Klaus.

He left as he came, with only the clothes on his back and a sketchbook tugged under his arm. Everything else he left behind as he softly closed the door behind him as if he was stepping out of a dream.

※※※※※※※

Halloween night came and people around him celebrated this night of the dead when the spirits of long-forgotten people roamed the streets - invisible for the normal human eyes. For Klaus, however, this night was torture.

He found himself at one of his usual nightclubs at first - one of the few ones that would let him inside without a costume - charmed a few pills from one of his most trusted dealers for a blowjob and had a drink. However, when midnight rolled around, the noise of the club, the music, and the ecstasy wasn’t enough anymore. At first, he wasn't sure if he really saw the man in the corner of the bar, right behind the barkeeper. So, he had squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again but the man still lingered right behind the barkeeper. He had had a giant hole in the side of his head.

Klaus had then swallowed another pill but it had not changed anything. The ghosts were hungry and angry this night. He had left the nightclub soon after and started stumbling through the nightly streets, passing by party goers and ghosts alike. At this point, he could hardly make out the difference. The dead and the alive started to blend together. The screams were deafening, his ears were ringing, his flesh was burning and ants were crawling underneath the first layer of his skin.

He needed something stronger than molly. He needed something - anything - to stop the voices from screaming at him. The ghosts, however, were relentless as they followed him through the nightly streets of this Halloween night.

He didn't even know where he was running to at this point and he only stopped when his legs started to grow weak and tired. He had reached the first nightclub that he had ever visited but as he stopped in front of the club in the pink sheen of the neon sign and saw the giggling girls outside, he felt sick.

A part of him urged him to go inside and enjoy the party, maybe take another pill and dance the rest of this night away but, even if he would be allowed to enter without a costume on this particular night, he just couldn't bring himself to move forward and enter the club. The thought of all those people surrounding him was terrifying as was the loud music that was already assaulting his ears now that he stood outside, shivering in the cold autumn winds in his thin clothes. He felt a fine coat of sweat clinging to his entire body and the people in front of the club started to look at him wearily.

So he walked on, slowly making his way a little further down the street until he found the same doorway that he had crashed at a few months ago again. He wondered how the tenants of the apartments inside the building had reacted to his puke on their stairs back then. He thought about Ben, as he sunk down on those steps. He thought about how his brother had found him completely by chance as if they were connected in some odd way, as if Ben had sensed where his brother had gone to.

And he thought about Diego who too had always had such an easy time finding him. Even when playing hide and seek in the big old house with all those hundreds of possible hiding spaces, those two had always found him with ease.

A part of him wished they were here now.

But they weren't here. He was alone and the voices so loud in his ears, screaming at him, inching in on him with each passing second, that he could only squeeze his eyes shut and press his hands to his ears to make it stop. He couldn't even hear the sobs that escaped him as he sat there. He was deaf to his own crying, to his own pleads for the voices to stop. The ghosts were too loud, too pressing, too demanding, too desperate.

And then, miraculously, through all the turmoil around him, through the spirits and the music and the parties, and the pain, his ears picked up something else, something completely new.

»I’m looking for- Perhaps you have seen my brother?« He knew that voice. »Please, I’m looking for my brother. He comes here often. Maybe you have seen him.« _He knew that voice!_ Above all the voices screaming in on him, and the noises of the nightclub and the Halloween parties all around him, he knew that voice!

»Please, I am looking for my little brother. His name is Klaus and he-«

»Diego!« He wanted to shout but his voice came out only as a small gasp as he opened his eyes and lowered the hands on his ears. The spirits were even louder now but he could see his brother in his stupid black clothes at the side of the nightclub.

»Diego!« He tried again and this time he caught the attention of the other boy as Diego whirled around on his heels. He felt like he would trip and fall if he would make the mistake of standing up and walking down those stairs on his own just now and yet he tried lifting himself up from the stairs anyway.

He hadn't eaten in days and spent all the money he had stolen or found or got from strangers for the small favors he had to offer on his drugs and now he felt weak and exhausted and Diego was there and he was alive and like a bright light shining through the darkest of nights as he came rushing down the street towards him. Diego was his lighthouse in a stormy sea.

Somehow, he succeeded in not falling but the moment Diego reached him and threw his arms around him, he felt his knees actually buckle under his weight. He was home. He was home in the familiar warmth of his brother, in his smell and in the firm grip of Diego’s fingers digging into his back. He hadn't even realized how cold he was until this moment but now that Diego was here with him, he was freezing as his brother’s warmth was seeping into him.

»I’m sorry.« He heard himself mumbling. »I’m sorry, Diego. I’m so cold … I wanna go home.« It was like waking from a nightmare as he clung to his brother and allowed the tears to come and the sobs to roll over his lips. »I wanna go home.«

 

**-End of Chapter 3-**


	4. Ben

**August 2006**

 

Ben was dead. This was a reality he had to confront, a reality he had to accept, a reality he had to acknowledge. Ben was dead and he wouldn't come back. He was gone. But what did that even mean for someone like Klaus who was tormented by the dead every day of his life? One of his very first memories was that of a ghost, a man in an old timely top hat with a gaunt grey face and bushy eyebrows with a deep gash in his throat leaning over him in his crib.

Ben, though, seemed to be something else. He was stubborn, in a way. They all were.

Klaus had been there when he died. He had seen it all. It had been violent and gruesome and bloody and, in the end, there hadn't been much left of his beloved brother. Ben had always been afraid of his power, always been scared to death that his power might one day kill him. And Klaus … Klaus had always tried to comfort him and tell him that this wouldn't happen, that dad wouldn't let this happen, that _he,_ being his “older” brother, wouldn't let this happen.

In the end, he hadn't been able to do anything about it. It had happened all so fast.

 _»Benny!«_ His own screams still echoed through his mind. It was pure agony slicing through his head like one of Diego’s knives, the scream so shrill that he had hardly recognized it as his own. _»Benny!«_

And Luther had been there. He had suddenly grabbed him around his waist and pulled him away from the horror that was happening right in front of him. Only hours later, still bathed in Benny’s blood, Klaus had realized that he would have died too, had Luther not grabbed him and torn him away from Ben. He hated his brother with a passion for it. Rather he would have died alongside Ben than keep on living in constant pain.

He was so tired of the pain. He was so tired of the nightmares.

Klaus grabbed the edge of the bathroom sink a little harder at this thought and squeezed his eyes shut because if he would open them, he would see it all again and he would be helpless to do anything about it again. He hadn't slept since Ben’s death, keeping himself upright out of spite and through the drugs he would take. Good old Miss Molly helped him to feel full of energy and drown out the ghosts, but her help started to wear thin and Klaus knew that he needed something more, something stronger.

It wasn't the first time that he would dabble in heroin. He had tried it before and loved it. Unlike Diego, Klaus had never had troubles with needles.

»Okay, Benny.« He mumbled at his reflection as he finally opened his eyes again. He looked like shit warmed up. Stubbles were lining his jaw, his hair was a curly mess on his head as father had given up on telling Grace to cut it short and into submission, he looked like the ghosts around him, gaunt and grey with dark circles underneath his eyes that he usually excused with smudged makeup that he stole from Allison. His sister had stopped caring at one point. Actually, it had been her who first introduced him to eyeliner and mascara. They had tried it out together - one of the happier days of his early adolescence. »Last chance to show your ugly ass.«

He looked over his shoulder in the reflection but he could only see the usual suspects. The old lady grinned menacingly with a row of sharp yellow teeth. The man with the top hat that he knew from his childhood had returned a week ago. There was another lady, young and sad with a broken neck. She had probably hung herself. Poor thing. No Ben, though. No, Ben was probably glad that he didn't have to put up with his brother anymore. He had moved on and was somewhere better now. Free. No unfinished business like all the other ghosts.

»Okay … be that way.« He huffed. He had already tied the belt around his left arm. He didn't even feel the pressure of the belt anymore these days, nor did he feel the sting of the needle as it pierced his skin.

The rush was familiar at this point. He thought about taking a bath to calm down and let the needle slip from his grasp. He didn't care that it landed on the ground as he walked over to the tub and turned on the faucet. He didn't even notice that he only turned on the cold water now. He felt like his brain was stuffed with cotton as he pulled his t-shirt over his head clumsily. It was then that he started to feel a little dizzy and wobbly on his feet but he only let out a small giggle at this new sensation. Funny how the voices around him started to slow down and became distorted as if Luther would be slowing down one of his stupid LPs on his turntable until the voices coming from it would sound almost demonic.

He managed to get the shoe off his right foot as he slipped and fell to the ground. Almost he would have hit his head on the rim of the tub as he landed with a groan on the tiles. He lay there on his back for what felt like an eternity, just staring at the ceiling. It had seen better days. Perhaps he should repaint it someday.

The entire world was suddenly spinning out of control, leaving him nauseous and confused - not the good kind of confused either. He felt like throwing up and as the sensation became overbearing, he slowly crawled over to the toilet and pulled himself into a kneeling position. The moment his head was over the toilet, his body started convulsing and then, as vomit was still burning in the back of his throat, the world suddenly turned black.

※※※※※※※

He felt like he had been hit by a steamroller - repeatedly - or as if some bizarre eldritch monstrosity had a good chew on him before spitting him back out. Klaus found himself in his bed when he woke up. The light in his room, though usually soft and mellow, was too bright and loud in his eyes now. The curtains were drawn together but he could hear the rain pounding against the glass. Something heavy rested on top of him and it took him a while until he realized that it was his blanket. How did he even get here?

»You are awake.« Diego’s voice sounded hoarse and raspy from lack of sleep and as Klaus had time to look at his brother, Diego looked just like he felt. Had they been on a mission? He couldn't remember. The last thing he remembered was standing in the bathroom. Had they been on a mission that had backfired again? Had he gotten hurt? »We didn't know if you would make it.«

»Oh Baby, you know I’m not so easy to get rid off.« Klaus huffed but his voice was barely under his control now. Odd. He could taste the distinct sour taste of vomit and stomach acid in his throat and winced at the sensation.

Diego didn't seem quite so amused by his words. Well, he never was. That was just how his brother was. Always this stiff figure, never allowing himself true joy. No … No, that was unfair. He loved his brother dearly. And Diego was still here with him, unlike Ben.

Ben who had left him. Ben who hadn't taken him with him. Ben who had once promised him to always be there for him.

»We almost lost you.« Diego sounded to somber. Almost Klaus was afraid that his brother was about to cry. But no .. Not Diego. Not his proud, strong brother.

»What happened?«

»You took too much, that happened.« Diego sighed after a moment of hesitation. »Luther and I found you in the bathroom. We only found you because you left the water running and flooded the bathroom. You were passed out cold and … You almost died, Klaus.« His eyes were red and his voice tight. Klaus had never seen his brother like this and, he thought, he didn't want to see him like this ever again. »You scared the crap out of me, Klaus. After Five … After Ben … You can't keep doing this to us. Never do this again … Please, Klaus. Just stop it with the drugs already. You don't need them. You can talk to me. Just stop, okay? I can't lose you too.«

And this time, he could actually see the tears running down his brother’s face before Diego, almost violently, wiped them from his cheeks with the back of his hand.

»I’m sorry, Diego.« He mumbled. It was the shock of this whole situation, the shock about his own brother crying in front of him like this, that made him say these words. »I didn't mean to- I am sorry…«

»It's okay.« Diego breathed even though they both knew that it wasn't. No, it wasn't okay. They would turn seventeen in two months and it wasn't okay that his brother had to sit at his bedside, fearing that he might die because he had taken too much heroin. »It's okay … Just … Just stop it, okay? Just … Just promise me that you stop.«

»I promise.« They both knew that it was a lie. They both knew that, as soon as Klaus would be able to, he would be up and hitting up his local drug dealer again for another hit. And yet they were here now and Diego smiled this sad watery little smile of his because he wanted desperately to believe that Klaus was not bullshitting him. And Klaus felt even worse because of it. It would be so much easier if his brother would not ask something so big of him. Something that he could impossibly give him.

He had fallen asleep not long after talking with Diego again and this time he hadn't blacked out but actually just fallen asleep like any normal person would. However, since he didn't have anything left in his system, he awoke like he usually did when he fell asleep sober: with a scream and shooting upright in his bed at once, startling the person sitting at his bedside.

»Klaus!« Not Diego. Luther’s voice was deeper than Diego’s voice and his hand bigger as it landed on Klaus’ trembling shoulder. »Klaus, calm down. It's alright.«

Nothing was alright but how was Luther supposed to know that? He only cared about father, Allison and his stupid missions after all. He couldn't possibly know that nothing was alright and that Klaus couldn't simply calm down like this either. Nothing was alright, nothing would ever be alright. Ben was dead. Five was gone. And Klaus … Klaus was insane. Yes, he was insane. It was not just the drugs. The spirits had actually driven him insane.

»Breathe.« Luther crooned as he put his hand on Klaus’ back. His hand was warm against the clammy skin of Klaus’ back and he found himself leaning into the touch. »Breathe. Slowly, Klaus. Everything is fine.«

He wanted to yell at Luther, instead, he leaned into his brother and rested his forehead against Luther’s strong shoulder. He felt exhausted even though he had just woken up and he knew that he would feel weak for a little while longer. At least, however, he was allowed to leave his bed that same afternoon.

Twenty four hours had passed since his brothers had found him in the bathroom and saved his life. He still felt like complete crap. At least their father wasn't there. He had left for one of his excursions to Egypt shortly after Ben’s death as if he didn't even care about the loss. He probably didn't. It was a momentary setback that he had lost yet another one of his weapons, another one of his specimens.

Klaus, unlike Luther, had grasped that their father didn't see them as children but as weapons in a never-ending war against the evil of this world, a long time ago. Luther, though certainly not stupid, was too naive to see it. Maybe he didn't want to see it because then he would need to question everything that he had worked so hard for and devoted his life to. In a way, he couldn't even blame neither Luther nor Diego for wanting their father’s praise. They wanted to be superheroes. What boy didn't want that?

Since he was allowed to leave his bed, Klaus was hardly ever alone as either Diego or Luther were constantly hovering around him. Allison was in theater camp over the rest of the summer. She had been glad to be able to leave after Ben’s death and none of them could really fault her for that. Vanya spent as much time out of the house as she possibly could as well these days and Klaus thought that it was now only a matter of time until Vanya would move out completely. He had always thought that he would be the first one to leave - if not dead then because his old man would throw him out for good. Even Diego seemed ready to leave the nest now. He seemed more bitter than ever. Perhaps he had finally realized that being part of this would never make him a superhero.

Everything had changed after Ben’s death.

They had never been a real family. But since Ben’s death, it had only gotten worse and worse. They started to drift apart, to lose each other and Klaus’ gut instinct was to hold on tighter to Diego and even Luther. He had lost Ben … His anchor in this godforsaken world. He couldn't lose Diego too - or even Luther. If Diego would leave, he had promised himself, he would follow him.

»Do you see him sometimes?« Diego asked three days after his accidental overdose and nodded towards the painting of their beloved Number Five who stared down on them from his spot over the fireplace with the usual smug expression on his face. Never changing. Never aging. Never growing up. It was a grey, hopeless day in late August. The sky was dull and the clouds heavy with rain, yet not one raindrop had fallen. He felt the electricity in the air.

»No.« Klaus sighed. It wasn't rare that they would sit together like this, he and Diego. His brother was sharpening his knives and Klaus had taken to his sketchbook. Luther had left the house a while ago but Klaus had already forgotten why.

Diego had offered to get him his easel and his paints so that he could finish his latest painting, but Klaus simply didn't feel like being actually productive. He wanted to doodle and try to get his mind off of being sober for three long days. The only reason why he was able to sleep since his overdose was that he was damn exhausted but every time he would fall asleep, the nightmares would make it impossible to stay under for too long.

He knew that he needed a fix soon but his brothers never let him out of sight. They were incredibly keen on keeping him sober this time around and Klaus hated that they were so controlling now. Couldn't they just let him die in peace? Was this really so much to ask for?

»And Ben?« He knew that the question had been inevitable and that Diego would sooner or later ask him about Benny but that didn't mean that it hurt any less.

»No.« He replied quietly and stopped in his doodling for a moment to look at it. He hadn't even realized that he was sketching Diego again until now. »I guess he moved on.« He shrugged his shoulders. »Can't fault him for that … I mean, ghosts usually exist because people die with unfinished business or because their deaths have been sudden and violent. Their death left behind a deep trauma and that's why they are lingering on and lashing out on … on people like me. But Benny … His death has been violent and sudden, yes, but I think he … I think he knew that this would happen sooner or later. I think he was prepared. And why would he stay back anyway? Wouldn't you want to move on from here instead of lingering?«

It was the first time Klaus really talked about his powers because his siblings simply didn't care about what he would see or experience and that was okay, he guessed. They didn't understand what he was going through and they were all too occupied with their own pains and dramas anyway.

»Maybe you are right.« Diego sighed. »Being a ghost probably sucks.«

»It does.« Klaus agreed and he noticed the way Diego looked at him at his self-assured words. Diego almost looked like he wanted to say something like ‘How do you know? You are no ghost, Klaus’ But instead of saying it, he let out an agreeing little hum and focussed on his weapons again. Perhaps he started to realize what Klaus had been feeling ever since they were children and maybe he had started to realize why Klaus was acting up so much.

»You seem quite sure about what the ghosts might feel.« Diego only probed carefully after a few seconds of silence and Klaus let out a humorless little chuckle.

»Ich _bin_ ein Geist, Baby.« Klaus replied with a grin and a small chuckle.

Their comfortable little brotherly hang-out session didn't go on for much longer though as he heard the front door of the house opening only to be shot loudly. He remembered that Luther had announced he would be picking up their father from the airport today but he hadn't paid much attention to it.

»And when did you think on telling me this, Number One?« It was unmistakably the voice of his father echoing through the ancient halls of the academy. Diego tensed on his seat on the sofa right away, his back suddenly straight as an arrow. He looked nervous. Diego was never nervous. Something wasn't right. And Diego knew what it was. The moment Sir Reginald Hargreeves stepped into the hall that they used as their living room where the whole family would get together, Klaus felt dread settle into his stomach.

His father didn't look at him at first. Instead, his eyes rested upon Diego. »Out, Number Two. I have something to discuss with your brother.«

»Dad-« Diego didn't even get a chance to say more than one word before his father raised his voice so loudly it echoed from the walls and the marble floor.

»Out!«

Diego rose from his spot on the sofa and didn't even look at Klaus as he grabbed his knives to leave. He looked at his own feet instead as if they were suddenly much more interesting than everything else that was going on around them. This was serious and he wished his brothers wouldn't leave him hanging like that now. Klaus knew that something big was going to happen. He felt the electricity in the air that always bubbled up before a big storm, he felt it sizzling under his skin and he wished, wished, wished Diego wouldn't leave him with their dad.

Ben had told him he would always be there for him and he had left … Why would Diego be any different?

He could only watch as his brother fled the hall and he could see Luther standing in the archway before being pulled away to the kitchen by Diego. His father walked closer slowly, the same intimidating towering figure he had been his entire life.

»Is there anything you want to tell me, Number Four?«

»No.« Klaus replied with a forced little grin creeping up on him and he knew that it was a mistake to play coy with his father now. He couldn't help himself, though. What would it matter anyway?

»No?«

»No, there is nothing I _want_ to tell you, Sir.« But Luther had already told their father. He felt numb at this realization. Was he surprised? No, not at all and that was the saddest part about all of this, he thought. He wasn't even surprised that his own brother had betrayed his trust like this. This was Luther, after all. And Luther just wanted to please the old man. »But I guess I don't have a choice, do I?«

»Disrespectful to the end.« Reginald thundered as he came to a halt again in the middle of the hall. »Get up when I am talking to you, Number Four!«

He wanted to resist. He wanted to scream at the old man that he couldn't force him and that he refused to play by his rules even a second longer now. He was done with his father, done with the academy, done with his brothers who left him hanging like this because they were too afraid and too much of a coward to actually stand up for him once. Luther and Diego called him their little brother and yet none of them were here to actually protect their little brother.

Instead of screaming at his dad, Klaus slowly got up from his spot on the armchair and walked over to him. His sketchbook he left behind on the armrest of the chair. Klaus set his jaw defiantly as he faced off with his father because he felt that he needed to show the same amount of stubbornness as the old man possessed in this standoff.

»Your brother told me what happened.« Reginald boomed with no intention of actually lowering his voice in any way. »He told me that he and Number Two found you almost dead from an overdose of Heroin on the bathroom floor. Do you have anything to say in your defense?«

He was silent and that seemed to anger his father even more. If he would say what he had told Diego, that he hadn't meant to take too much, his father would be even more infuriated because it would mean that his son was not only a junkie but a stupid one at that too.

»What a disgrace!« His father shot. »Lying in your own filth in the bathroom and forcing your brothers to save your selfish life! What a disgrace, Number Four! Tell me, did you try and kill yourself or were you just too careless and took too much by accident?«

»You know what?« His blood was boiling as he growled at his father and he didn't even care if his brothers would hear him in the kitchen. Diego and Luther were probably too busy fighting with each other anyway. They always were fighting. »Yes! I tried to kill myself, Dad! Because being dead is better than living in this house! Being dead is better than being your son! Ben knew this! And that was why he let this happen to himself! Because he knew that, sooner or later his power would kill him and you wouldn't care! He knew that you would push and push and push until it would devour him and, in the end, it had and Ben let it happen because being dead was better than this!«

He should have expected the sharp slap. A part of him had. Sir Reginald had never been violent to any of them. Not in the traditional sense. His abuse of them was psychological in nature. He had never punched or hit any of them and yet, Klaus had known that he had driven his father into a corner and that he would sooner or later lash out on him like this because he couldn't stand looking at him any longer because Klaus was too much of a disappointment.

The slap had been a lot harder than he would have anticipated, though, and left him with a split lip and a small trickle of blood running from the right corner of his mouth.

»Enough.« His father said as he wiped his hand on the handkerchief he took from his breast pocket as if just touching his son - hitting his son - had left his hand soiled. He didn't seem to feel guilty, though. Klaus was almost satisfied that it had been him who had been able to drive his father to actual physical violence. Not Diego or anyone else. It had been him.

»Enough of this madness, Number Four. You will leave this house to go into a rehabilitation facility upstate. I will make arrangements for you right away. Go to your room and pack your stuff. You will be there for at least two months, depending on your progress. You will get the help you need from those specialists and when you come back we will progress your training. You have been slacking off too much these past months, dulling your brain and your powers poisoning yourself! You are weak, Number Four! Adapt or perish.«

Klaus gritted his teeth at his father's words. He knew that there was nothing he could say to actually get him to change his mind. Pleading wouldn't work on him, logic wouldn't work on him. His father had known that he was taking drugs for a long while. He had seen how it had affected Klaus’ powers and he hadn't done anything about it until now because now Luther had told him and now Luther knew that their father knew and their father had to make an example out of Klaus.

»Now, Number Four!« Reginald yelled and only then Klaus started to move again. He walked past the old man without even looking at him again. He had made his decision and the old man knew that he had. Klaus knew that his father knew that he wouldn't be here when those professionals would come to pick him up. And Klaus knew that his father wouldn't do anything to stop him. Adapt or perish. Klaus had made his decision.

As he later climbed out of his bedroom window, all he took with him was a backpack filled with clothes and a few valuable items he could pawn off for drug money. He took the black nail polish that he had stolen Allison. He took Luther’s new flannel shirt that was way too big for him but smelled of his brother. He took Diego’s favorite black t-shirt - the one with the white printed claw marks on it. He took Ben’s favorite comic book and a pawn from Five’s chessboard in his room that was still like he had left it when he vanished. And, at last, he took a page of Vanya’s sheet music from the piece she had been practicing the last few weeks.

When he reached the alleyway underneath his window and looked back up, he could see Diego standing at his bedroom window looking down on him. His brother didn't stop him as Klaus walked away and the first drops of rain started to fall from the sky. Klaus knew that this was the last time, perhaps forever, that he would see his brother and this place he had once called his home.

He didn't look back, though, even as his heart broke a little.

 

**-End of Chapter 4-**


	5. When the party is over

**October 2019**

 

Walking through the old academy, Klaus sometimes wondered just how their father's death had managed to get them all back together again as a team. And this time around, this word truly applied to them. It seemed fitting that the old man who had first brought them together as siblings would bring them together again through his passing - even more so now that Klaus knew about his father's suicide. That selfish old bastard. He remembered the vision of Heaven well to this day, six months after it.

At first, he hadn't been ready to talk to his siblings about it. Not after everything that had happened, this whole dilemma with Cha-Cha and Hazel or the agency Five had once worked for. In fact, during all of this chaos, after he had been kidnapped by those lunatics, Klaus had almost forgotten about his short trip to heaven - or wherever he had been. He had been on the brink of death in that closet and it was only thanks to his brothers that he was still here today even though they had needed so long to not only realize that he was gone but find him as well.

In the end, they had found him and they had saved him, and that was all that mattered.

This morning, Klaus regarded the portrait of their father with mixed feelings. Luther had seen to it that someone would restore the painting and fix the bullet holes in it. It had been important to him and Klaus … After talking to his father in the afterlife … He didn't know what to feel about the old man anymore.

He had soon learned what good old Regie had meant as he had told him that he had only scratched the surface of his powers until that point. These days it seemed almost easy to make Ben solid if his brother would wish to be. Even the levitation thing started to get easier. Only the thing with the telekinesis … Well, he was practicing with Vanya and she was a patient teacher despite still struggling with her own powers as well.

It was almost funny how awful of a team they had been as their father had forced them to be one and how good they worked together now that they were doing their thing on their own terms and because they wanted it to work.

»Happy Birthday, Bumblebee!« Klaus almost snorted at the nickname. He hadn't even realized how much he had missed it until he had first heard it again six months ago. As he looked over his shoulder and found Allison approaching him, he smirked a little.

»Happy Birthday to you too, Princess.« The wink he gave his sister only earned him a proper eye roll as she stepped closer and put her arm around his slim shoulders to lean her curly head against his own.

»So?« Allison then smiled as she decided to let go of him again. »Any plans for your special day?«

Klaus had never held the same feeling towards his birthday that other kids his age, normal kids, held. To him, it hadn't been such a special day. Perhaps because he had needed to share his birthday with all his other siblings. And yet, now that he was turning thirty and stood beside his sister Allison, he felt a much deeper connection to his six siblings than ever before.

»No.« He huffed. »You know … as a child, I hated it that we all had the same birthday. It was … I wanted my own birthday … To be my own person. I didn't want to share everything with you guys. And I hated it that we had to share a cake too. For Dad, it was easier this way, of course. He only had to remember one birthday. I felt cheated out of an experience all the other normal kids out there in the real world had.«

»I know what you mean.« Allison laughed. »Our birthday became only another team building exercise every year. A chore.«

»But after I left … After Ben’s death … Every year when this day rolled around I felt like something was missing. I tried to numb myself, I tried to take so much that I didn't even know what day it was so that the feeling wouldn't be so bad. Last year, I overdosed on our birthday and when I came back from the dead, I felt horrible because of what I did. And I thought about you guys and that you nearly had gotten the news of my death on our birthday. Not that this would have stopped me from taking drugs, huh?«

»But you stopped.« Allison replied with a soft smile tugging on her lips before she pressed a kiss to his temple.

»Yes.« Unbelievable but it was true. He had stopped taking drugs after being kidnapped by these lunatics and he hadn't started back up since no matter how hard everything got. It hadn't been easy and more often than not had he felt the urge to just leave this house, the academy and his siblings behind again to do his own thing. After they had successfully stopped the world from burning, he had thought that he deserved doing his own thing again, taking drugs, dancing through the night until his body would inevitably give up on him.

He hadn't, though. His siblings had kept him away from the streets and the drugs and the temptation and though he had been annoyed at first that he could hardly make a step out of this house without one of his siblings tagging along to chaperon even the occasional trip to the supermarket, he was thankful for their worry now.

Oh, how often had he yelled at them to just leave him alone and treat him like they had always treated him before dad’s death. Oh, how unfair had he been to them. He and Luther had been at each other's throats countless times since May and yet, in the end, Klaus had always waddled back to his brother and sought forgiveness for his outbursts and not once had Luther refused to give his forgiveness. They were closer now than they had ever been as children.

Growing up, Luther had not outright shunned him, he had just not cared much about Klaus. He had been too occupied with Allison and the training. He had wanted to be the best leader this group could have while forgetting that being a leader meant to actually care for one’s teammates too. Their strained relationship had been shaped by father’s opinion of Klaus as well without a doubt and the same held true for Allison’s relationship with Klaus.

Now everything had changed. It wasn't like they were one big happy family like the Brady Bunch now, but they were growing closer each day. When Allison finally pulled away, Klaus had an idea at last what he wanted to do with this special day now that they were all together again at last. The first time in seventeen years.

»I don't know if you made plans for tonight but-«

»No.« Allison smiled. »No plans.«

»I would love it if we could all … meet here. Spend the night together, you know? Nothing special just … I don't know we could have a barbeque or watch those old movies that Luther likes so much or have a proper bonfire.«

She seemed surprised at first, but then her gaze softened again and she moved forward once more to wrap him into a tight hug and press another kiss to his forehead. »Sounds awesome. I’ll be here and I’ll bring your favorite non-alcoholic champagne.«

He huffed a humorless little chuckle. Maybe that was the worst about being sober - not being able to enjoy a good whiskey or anything else that had alcohol in it. At least his siblings were very mindful of him and sometimes he felt a little bad about that. After Allison had left him, he ventured back upstairs. There was just a small surprise for his siblings that he had prepared the past few weeks only to hastily cover it up every time someone came into his room. Ben was the only one who knew but that was hardly fair. Ben was nosy as fuck and he was bored out of his mind most of the time since he was dead. There was no way for Klaus to keep any secret from his dead brother.

»You know« Ben started as he returned to his room. »sober-you is the biggest softie of them all.«

»Oh shut up you and help me instead. They are all out now. That's our chance, Baby.«

»Where do you wanna put this anyway?« Ben sighed as he pointed at the easel.

»Downstairs. So that I won't have to carry it down later today. It's a surprise, after all!«

»And you need me to help you carry? Jesus, Klaus, you really could do with a few more muscles.«

»Shush, Patrick Swayze, and help me.«

Since he had his powers better under control, his brother could materialize whenever he wanted but Ben preferred not to when it meant he needed to do some sort of heavy lifting. He couldn't fault him for that, he supposed. He wouldn't want that either. If he would be a ghost, he would conveniently be unable to materialize as well if Ben or Luther needed a hand. Not that he would be of much help anyway with his skinny ass.

As Ben helped him to take the painting from the easel, Klaus’ eyes fell upon the various paintings across his walls showing Dave’s face. He wondered if-

»He would be proud of you, Klaus.« Ben smiled. He knew him better than most people but that was hardly an achievement after Ben was with him most of the time, whether in his ghost form or not. »We are all proud of you.«

»Then why doesn't he show himself to me?« Klaus sighed and dragged a hand over his face before grabbing onto the painting again and shook his head. »Stupid question. He moved on. Why would he linger to visit me once in a while?«

Meeting Dave had felt like fate. Meeting Dave had been a cosmic joke. Meeting Dave had been his destiny. It had been a complete coincidence that, after Hazel and Cha-Cha returned to the mansion again to finish what they started and finally get to Five, Klaus had gotten a hold of this weird ass suitcase of theirs.

He wasn't that proud to say that he had been running from the chaos and the noise on that day after he had grabbed the suitcase purely on instinct. In the end, however, it had turned out that taking the suitcase and accidentally traveling through time, had allowed him to find his soulmate. Of course, God, that pesky little bitch, would have the love of his life die decades before Klaus was even born. She really had it in for him.

»Maybe he isn’t strong enough.« Ben shrugged his shoulders. »I needed a while to show myself to you too, after all.«

»Yes … But, Dave has been dead for fifty-one years, Darling. He doesn't want to show himself to me.«

»Perhaps he can't.« Ben sighed as they left Klaus’s bedroom and walked down the hallway. »I mean … He died twenty-one years before you were even born, Klaus. Perhaps he just can't find you. He was probably looking for you after his death and couldn't find you because you weren’t born yet.«

»That doesn't stop the other ghosts.« Klaus huffed. »No, Dave moved on and he was right to do so. He is now somewhere better and that's okay.«

»Doesn't mean that you are not allowed to be in pain about it.«

»I know.« Klaus moaned. »I know, I know, I know and that sucks! Being sober sucks!«

Ben laughed a little as they were walking down the staircase towards the living room. The house was blissfully quiet, even the ghosts were silent for now. He had learned to get a hold of them even without the drugs.

Everyone always told him how good he was doing and yet, even though he knew that it was true, he didn't feel like it. Six months clean and he still didn't feel any less of a fuck-up. Perhaps that would change tonight when they would all be together at last as a family. They would celebrate their birthday together for the first time in seventeen years, all seven of them.

»A cake!« He suddenly chimed up. »We need a cake!«

»So buy one?« Ben urged with a small confused frown on his face.

»No, I’m gonna make one!«

»You don’t know how to bake!«

»Time to learn it then, right?« He laughed as they were setting down the painting next to the bar and covered it neatly again with the canvas sheet that had slipped a little during the transport. »I’m gonna make the best cake ever!«

»Please don't tell me you are turning into a stress baker.«

»I am not stressed.« Klaus huffed.

»Yeah sure, tell that to yourself, Brother, but I know you - better than you know yourself. You are stressing about today and you don't need to. Everything is cool. It's our birthday, you are going to bake us a cake, it will be awful, Luther will hit up the barbeque and we will have a great night together around the campfire. It's what you always wanted as a child, remember? You always dreamed of making a fire in the yard, having us all sit around the fire and just talk.«

»You make me sound like a complete whump.«

»Because you are.« Ben laughed. »I know that the family has always been important to you and perhaps you needed us all to stick together much more than anyone else in this family. We should have seen that and be there for you. After all, you are pretty much the middle child, huh? I’ve read somewhere that the middle child needs a warm nest and a strong bond with their siblings.«

Klaus laughed again before he patted Ben’s cheek softly. »Okay then.« He shrugged. »Tell the others that the Middle Child is out to buy groceries and will be back in like an hour or so.«

»Will do.«

Ben sighed flopping down on the couch with one of his comics that he liked to carry around in the pouch of his hoodie. Odd how domestic everything felt these days. Odd how nice and normal everything was. They all had met Claire two months ago after Allison had brought her home for a visit but Allison never returned to her life in L.A. Instead, she had come to terms with her ex-husband and his custody of Claire. She saw her as often as she could but ever since the Umbrella Academy was up and running again, taking care of a little girl had become infinitely harder.

Even though he was getting stronger and stronger each day, that didn't mean that Ben would stay corporal when Klaus would distance himself too far from the house. By now, they had achieved a radius of one mile - which wasn’t too bad, he supposed.

As Klaus walked out of the house - alone for the first time in six months because Ben actually trusted him - he felt the warm breath of the dying summer on his face. It was a nice day, sunny and warm enough to run around sleeveless, not that Klaus would do just that since he was almost always cold. He had grown used to always feeling cold over the years but since he was clean it had gotten better. Every now and again, he would find himself searching comfort in Diego’s room at night, when the ghosts would scream at him even louder than before or when the urge was there to leave the house and shoot up something - anything at all. In the beginning, he thought that it should have felt much more awkward to cuddle up to his brother at night after all those years but Diego, that big old softie, made it easy for him.

He thought that the urge to take drugs would never quite go away but he knew better how to handle it now. He knew that he could go to Diego and talk to him about it and that he would straighten him out again without any judgment. Diego was grounding him in the same way Ben used to and, Klaus thought, he was grounding Diego too, in a way.

Diego, their mommy’s boy, was perhaps in an even greater need for the comfort of his family but too proud to actually vocalize this. Klaus knew that Diego needed to feel that Klaus needed his big bro. Klaus knew that Diego thrived when he felt like he could protect those around him and that his siblings were coming to him for comfort.

Sometimes he would overdo it though. Diego always threw himself between Klaus and Luther when they would argue again and this would mostly lead to punches being thrown. Well, Diego was a hothead - same as Klaus.

Walking down the sunny streets of their city, he felt like a new man, oddly enough. For the first time since he had gotten clean, he felt actually free walking around outside and not being chaperoned by his over anxious siblings. He would prove to them that he could go to the shops, get groceries and return in under an hour without relapsing or getting into any kind of trouble without them hovering close by.

He needed that.

Needless to say, he didn't make it in under an hour. Needless to say, when he returned home with the brown paper bags full of groceries for the cake and the barbeque, he was met with a closed front of his siblings looking at him in disappointment.

»What's wrong?« Klaus huffed as he entered the kitchen to set down the bags. His siblings had collectively gathered inside the kitchen and the way they looked at him told him clearly enough what was going through their minds. »Did someone die?«

»Where have you been?« Luther boomed.

»Out.« Klaus shrugged and gestured at the groceries in front of him. »Picking up groceries for the barbeque and for the … I wanted to make a cake.«

»Please, Klaus-«

»Didn't Ben tell you?« Klaus interrupted their great leader before he could say anything else. They didn't believe him. He could see this clear as day already. Had he left the one-mile radius? Was this why they were freaking out?  

»You said you would be out for an hour.« Five sneered. »That was four hours ago!«

»Yes … So? Aren't I allowed to go outside and enjoy the nice weather?«

»Show us your arms.« Allison demanded as she walked around the table and bridge the distance between Klaus and her while the rest of their siblings remained on the other side of that table.

»What?«

»You heard her.« Diego mumbled. The way he was looking at the table instead of looking Klaus in the eye spoke of disappointment and hurt and grief. »Show her your arms, Klaus.«

»I didn't … I didn't take anything, I swear.«

Allison lunged forward and grabbed a hold of his left arm to shove up the sleeve of his thin jacket that was much more of an accessory than an actual piece of clothing. Klaus pulled his arm away out of reflex if nothing else. He stumbled back but his reaction probably only served as confirmation for his siblings.

»You really think that I-«

»What are we supposed to think?« Five hissed clearly enraged by this whole situation. Even Ben seemed unsure of what to make of this.

»Ben?« He gasped but the other boy looked away.

»You know what … Fuck you.« Klaus turned back to the others. »Fuck all of you.«

He had to bite back tears as he turned around on his heels and walked back out of the kitchen and up to his room. No one came after him and he didn't care either. They wanted him to fail. That was the first thing that came to his mind. They wanted him to fail. they expected him to fail. All their talk about being proud of him and trusting him was nothing but empty words! None of them trusted him or were truly proud of him. They had only been counting the days until he would fail and relapse again.

Realizing this, hurt more than any of their words could. It was like one of Diego’s knives slicing right through him.

He slumped on his bed as he slammed the door close and took the small bag of pills out of his jacket pocket. For a moment he just stared at the small bag between his fingertips. What point was there in staying sober and in this house when his siblings thought so little of him? What point was there to stay sober when his siblings would control him, belittle him and expect him to relapse whenever they weren't around to watch out for him? What kind of life was that? He wasn't free. This was just another prison cell now and this time around his jailors were his own siblings now that dad was no longer around.

 _Don't do it_ , a small voice in the back of his head urged him as he opened the baggie. _Don't throw away what you achieved_.

 _Dave_ , he thought. No. Not Dave. Dave still refused to show himself to Klaus. The voice in his head sounded much more like Benny. Benny who sided with their siblings. Benny who was disappointed in Klaus. Benny, who didn't trust Klaus to leave the house for a few hours without relapsing. Fuck him. Fuck Dave. Fuck Luther and Diego and Allison and Five and Vanya. Fuck all of them.

In an instant, he was back on his feet and grabbed his backpack from the floor to push a few of his clothes into the bag and fling it over his shoulder. He had enough of this. Six months had passed since their father's death and since they saved the whole entire goddamn world (by the power of love, as Klaus liked to joke) and Klaus only now woke from the dream he had allowed himself to wallow in. For six whole months, Klaus had allowed himself to think that through their love for each other as a family, they could master anything, that it had taken their father's death for them to come together as a team and that his siblings loved, trusted and supported him.

He felt stupid as he grabbed his backpack and grabbed the small bag with the pills from his bed. For the longest time, Klaus just stared at them, feeling the urge to prove his siblings right and take them all right now. He desperately wanted to be numb again. What good was being sober doing him? No one was taking him seriously and Dave had not yet shown himself to Klaus either! Getting clean had been a mistake.

All of this … All of this had been a mistake.

As Klaus left his room with his backpack flung across his shoulder, he almost expected Ben to show up and stop him from running off and getting high again. Ben didn't come. He didn't know if Ben was downstairs with the others. He probably was. They were all probably talking about him and how much of a disappointment Klaus was, that he had been out and getting high on their birthdays of all days. Ben had probably enough of him now.

He stopped briefly as he wandered past the bathroom and his eyes fell upon the baggie in his hand again.

It had been pure coincidence that he had run into his ex-dealer. Klaus, and that was no surprise for anyone in this family, was easily distracted. Walking down the sunny streets, Klaus had decided to make a quick detour to the local park that was more or less on the way between the academy and the shops. He had allowed himself to sit down on a bench in the sun for a few minutes, just enjoying the sun and the warmth, watching people around him.

It hadn't been his fault that his former dealer had spotted him there and came to him. He hadn't been out looking for the guy. He had just wanted to enjoy the day and this new beginning. A new year of his life was starting today and he had felt on top of the world for once. That was until his dealer had started talking to him.

There was nothing wrong in talking, right? They had known each other for years, after all. His ex-dealer, Jake, had been the closest thing to a friend that Klaus had had over the past years, except for his dead brother. Oh, wasn’t this a sad little thought to have? Anyway, as Jake had pressed the small baggie with those pills into his hand, telling him that it was a gift for his best former customer, Klaus hadn't known what to do or how to give it back and before he had known it, Jake had been gone. He knew that tactic. He had been there before. Yet, he had still slipped the baggie into his pocket instead of throwing it away right then and there.

Maybe his siblings were right. He was a disappointment. He was disappointed of himself. What had hurt the most was Diego’s reaction - or the lack thereof he should say. Diego, who always defended him, Diego, who was always there for him when he needed him. Diego, his rock in a stormy sea. He had disappointed him so god-damn much. He had looked so defeated just now.

He had never meant to disappoint Diego.

Maybe it was this thought that led him into the bathroom. He let his backpack slip from his shoulder and fall to the ground as he walked over to the toilet, opened the zip-lock of the little baggie and dumped the pills into the toilet water before flushing. Of course, no one was ever around to see him do something like this. No one was ever around to see him being strong and determined. The others always only saw him when he fucked up and struggled. It had always been like this and he hated it. He wanted to be better than this. He was tired of being the family fuck up.

As he returned to his room, he dumped the contents of his backpack on the floor and let himself fall on his bed again. He was better than this. He could be better than this. He knew he could be better than this and he wanted to be better than this. He wanted this fresh start. He wanted to be clean and sober and not numb anymore. He wanted to feel everything; the hurt, the pain, the sadness, the loneliness, the desire to be more, the desire to connect, happiness, fear. He wanted to cry when his heart was broken and to scream when he was terrified of the dark.

He thought about Dave. He had seen him for who he was. He had seen Klaus’ strength even though Klaus had been unable to see it himself. For once in his life, he wanted to prove to the world that Klaus Hargreeves was much more than the local junkie, that he was more than this crazed lunatic running wild on drugs. He wanted his siblings to look at him and be proud of his accomplishments.

It was a little later that same day and the sun was already setting on the horizon, as Klaus was shaken from his musings through a knock at his door. He had spent his time lying on his back on his bed, idly sketching in his sketchbook, not willing to leave his room again for the rest of the day. He didn't even want to answer the door but the person on the other side didn't care that much.

Of course, it would be Diego who came to fetch him, in the end. Of course, it would be Diego, carefully poking his head inside before opening the door fully and slipping inside. As Diego sat on the edge of his bed by his feet, Klaus didn't even look up. He had learned to enjoy the comfortable silence that he could only share with Diego. This time, however, there was something very awkward about his brother and Diego managed to startle him quite a bit too as he suddenly grabbed Klaus’ naked feet and pulled them into his lap, holding onto them as if this would be a normal thing to do.

Then again, he remembered, very vaguely, the night when he had been released from the Mausoleum at last. He had been a mess. He didn't remember much from after the mausoleum. But he remembered feeling completely lost and terrified out of his mind. He had been somewhere between the world of the living and the dead. Now as an adult he knew that his mind and body had shut down from panic and that his father had only released him because he would have died from fear had he not pulled him out of there.

What he did remember of this night, however, was Diego, sitting at the end of his bed, holding his feet as he did now, grounding him at the moment, perhaps grounding himself too.

»I’m sorry.« Diego finally spoke up with his eyes resting on Klaus’ feet. His hands were warm against his cold skin. »I … I should have said anything. I should have defended you, earlier. I know that you didn't take anything. I … I was so scared that you did take something, though.«

Diego Hargreeves admitting that he had been scared? Wow. That was new indeed.

»I met my dealer.« Klaus admitted and Diego's grip on him became harder. He could see it in the way Diego tensed that he wanted to scream at him. He didn't. Diego pinched his lips and didn't say anything. »I didn't look for him. It happened by chance when I was out shopping. He … We talked a little. He said he was worried when I wouldn't come anymore, that he thought I might have finally kicked the bucket. I told him that I was clean for six months now. He … He gave me pills - a farewell kind of gift, you know? For his best customer.«

Diego's grip was almost bruising right now.

»When I came back home and you all ganged up on me … I felt so stupid, so useless. I thought, what was the point in all of this when you guys don't trust me? And I … I almost took those pills.«

»Where are they now?« His voice sounded almost husky, a clear sign of how hard a time Diego had to compose himself. Klaus could read him like a book.

»I flushed them down the toilet.« Diego's eyes landed on his face and this time he could see that his brother was looking for the lie behind his words, that he was scanning and searching before his shoulders slumped and his posture relaxed. He believed him.

»Why didn't you take them?«

»I thought that you guys were right not to trust me if it was so easy to sway me and make me struggle.« He shrugged his shoulders. »And I didn't want that. After everything that happened … After Dave … Cha-Cha and Hazel … I wanted a fresh start. I really did. And I wanted you guys to be proud of me. I wanted _you_ to be proud of me. Let's be honest … I am not twenty anymore … Being the crazy junkie kid of the family is no longer cute.«

»It never was.« Digo huffed before he took Klaus hand and pulled him up into a sitting position. He was a little surprised by the hug his brother pulled him into next, but he allowed himself to relax against Diego. »I _am_ proud of you, little Bug. Have been from the start. Getting clean and staying clean wasn't easy for you and I know that. But you’ve come so far. And I am proud of you for getting rid of those pills by yourself.«

»I shouldn't have taken them with me.«

»No.« Diego sighed. »But the fact that you didn't take them and that you threw them away without any one of us telling you to or forcing you, shows how far you’ve come, Klaus. And I do trust you.«

When Diego broke the hug, his brother stood quite quickly. Almost Klaus was sure that he had teared up a little but Diego was good in masking his emotions as he pulled Klaus up to his feet. »And now come, you useless little slob. We have something for you.«

Klaus was confused at first as he walked out of the room, his hand still in Diego’s, as his brother seemed unwilling to let go of him. Diego led him downstairs and instead of leading him into the living room, he led him outside into the courtyard. Klaus actually let out a small squeal as he saw the campfire that his siblings had set up in the middle of the courtyard where once Ben’s statue had stood firm. They had destroyed the thing after Ben asked them to.

»No, no, no!« Allison suddenly chimed up from where she was setting up everything with Vanya. She rushed over to the brothers. »There's something else you need to see first.« Allison smiled and her smile looked rueful as she took his other hand and pulled Klaus back into the living room, calling for the rest of them to follow them inside. Even Ben was there and Five just jumped into the living room without the effort of walking there. To his surprise, Five then made another jump, up a ladder that rested against the wall over the fireplace. Klaus hadn't noticed at first that Five’s portrait rested against the wall and that something else was set up, hidden with a cloth.

»We found that earlier.« Luther explained and nervously scratched his neck. »By the bar. Ben told us about it. And we thought that … this would look much better up there.«

Klaus was confused and as he looked at Diego, his brother just placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before Five pulled down the sheet to reveal the painting that Klaus himself had painted. It hadn't been easy to paint his siblings without having them model for him and yet he was quite proud of his work. It was not one of the boring old oil portraits that their father had commissioned of them over the years. They were all on it, all seven of them. It was colorful and artsy and his father would hate it. Klaus, on the other hand, felt a lump in his throat over the fact that his siblings had put up his painting on such a prominent spot.

»It's beautiful.« Vanya smiled and pressed a kiss to Klaus’ cheek.

»It really is.« Allison agreed and even Five seemed pleased with the painting.

»You did a great job.« Five stated as he climbed down the ladder. He could feel Ben’s hand resting against the small of his back. Just a small comfort in all of this. Klaus was not used to being the center of any kind of positive attention and he didn't know how to feel about that. He suddenly wanted to run and hide somewhere but Diego put his arm around his shoulders and kept him grounded because his brother could read him like a book as well.

»We wanted to apologize.« Luther said grimly. »We did you wrong earlier and we know that. We are sorry for how we treated you.«

»It's okay.« Klaus huffed and quickly brushed the back of his hand over his cheeks that were suddenly very moist. »It's okay.«

»It's not.« Luther sighed. »It's really not. You did good Klaus. These past months. And we didn't trust you.«

He glanced at Diego but the look his brother gave him said clearly that he should just let it go, to not tell his other siblings about the pills. So, Klaus didn't. Maybe some things didn't need to be discussed over and over.

»Oh, please, stop being so mushy you guys.« Klaus huffed. »I am not high enough for this. Can't we just … celebrate our birthday now?«

»Since you mention it« Allison laughed. »How does chocolate cake and Luther’s prized barbeque sound to you?«

The night was dark as Klaus found himself snuggled into a soft warm blanket on the side of the campfire. Allison had fallen asleep half an hour ago, her head resting on Luther’s shoulder. Ben had just vanished a few minutes ago. Vanya let out a small yawn and Five stared thoughtfully into the flames. They had been sitting here for hours. Eating and chatting, catching up and just enjoying each other's company. It was Diego who fell asleep before Klaus, his head falling onto Klaus’ shoulder in the process and this time it was Klaus who wrapped his fluffy blanket around his brother’s shoulders and pulled him closer.

For once, he felt content, staring into the flames. They had used Five’s portrait as fuel for the fire and the little lunatic had rejoiced as his painting gone up in flames. Maybe they shouldn't let him drink so much alcohol. Then again, who was Klaus to judge?

 

**-End of Chapter 5-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep your eyes peeled for the 3rd and last part of this series coming sooooooon!


End file.
